Sam and I are in Maine! It feels so good to be home. No matter where I make my nest, Maine will always feel like home. As we were flying into Manchester my heart swelled to see the green trees, thick like moss over the landscape, little hollows carved out with houses nestled in. I can feel stress rolling off my body like water off a duck just from being here a few days. We're at the family homestead Clayton and I spent a year renovating. It was built by my great, great grandfather. For years it sat empty until Clay and I took on the project- and what a project it was! We've since passed that torch on to my parents.
My dad whipped up a delicious omelet for us when we got home; smoked salmon, Gorgonzola, tarragon and dilly beans! Yep, dilly beans, and they were delicious. He gets pretty adventurous in the kitchen and often hits upon a real winner. The dilly beans that didn't make it into the omelet were quickly devoured by Sam and I. I was glad to see that Sam appreciates my parent's homemade specialty as much as I do.
We almost sold my old, wooden high chair at a yard sale once, but luckily someone thought better of it. I love seeing Sam in it. It was from way back before all the oodles of safety regulations so, of course there's no belt to buckle him in with. Which means you have to do it the old fashioned way: be super vigilant, or grab a winter scarf and wrap him in! With two grandparents enamored with his every move, the scarf seemed redundant.
I smiled upon opening the fridge and finding freshly gathered eggs, a cold pitcher of juice and a bottle of Moxie, the Maine health tonic. The fresh colander of strawberries on the table made me pretty happy too. Don't you love the flavors of home?
It's been eight months since my parents last saw Sam. All his walking, talking, and signing is new to them. He immediately started calling my dad Papa all on his own, which is what I used to call him when I was little. As we grew up, my brother and I eventually shortened it to Pop, so it's perfect for Sam to revive the original name.
As soon as my dad set it down for a moment, Sam grabbed his hat and started marching around the house in it. As long as I can remember my dad has had some sort of "Indiana Jones" hat (or so we called them). This one has a feather clipped to it by some sort of electrical widget. It's so my dad. Funny how those things you once thought were quirky (or embarrassing!) as a kid turn out to be the things you love the most about your parents. Who would've guessed that some day I'd even consider dilly bean omelets a gourmet treat?